


the motion of light on her face

by slightlykylie



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlykylie/pseuds/slightlykylie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On clothing and sunlight. Written for annaalamode in femslash12 on LJ/DW. Season 6 is not canon in my world, so this picks up after the S5 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the motion of light on her face

               In the shopping centre, while Mini’s looking at the clothes, Franky is watching the light.

                It’s a long column of silver running down the window of River Island, moving with them as they walk. Franky knows Mini hasn’t noticed it, knows she’d say it’s the same thing you’d see on any shop window in the shopping centre.  Franky feels that way about the clothes behind the windows, but never mind that.  Just behind the silver column there’s their own reflections, shimmery and ghostlike.  Franky’s gaze shifts to the reflected Mini, the tumble of pale curls over her shoulder, the white flash of her teeth as she laughs. Next to her Franky looks short and square and boring.  Which matches the way she feels around Mini when Mini’s got her queen-bee persona on.

                “Franky. _Franky_!” Mini calls, cutting through Franky’s thoughts.  “You haven’t heard a single word I’ve said, have you?”

                “Um. I – um.” Franky tries to find the right reply.  “No,” she says after a moment.

                 Mini lets out a trill of laughter.  “Never mind. Oh, _look_ at that dress! Oh, Franky, it’s perfect for you.  Come on.”  She pulls on Franky’s arm.  “You so have to try it on. You haven’t even got a dress for formal yet, have you?”

                Franky pulls her arm out of Mini’s grip.  “I’m not wearing a dress to formal.  I mean, I’m not even going to formal.”

                “Of course you’re going to formal, Franky. We’re all going in a group. And you’ve got to try this.”  Mini shoves the dress at Franky, draping it over her shoulder when Franky won’t take hold of it.  “Come on.  I’ll try this on too,” she says, snagging a pink strapless dress  off a rack.

                “Mini. Wait.”  Franky swivels Mini to face her, feeling frustration welling up in her as Mini’s eyes narrow dangerously.  “Why do you want me to do all this? Why are you always trying to make me try on dresses and… stuff? It’s not me.  You know that.” She pauses.  Mini’s face has gone into that in-between mode she has, when she’s been startled out of her cheery façade and hasn’t found an expression to replace it with yet.  “It’s like… you don’t like who I am.  Like you want me to change.”

                Mini tries on a smile.  “I’m not trying to change you.  I just… thought the dress would look nice, that’s all.  You wore a dress at Grace’s wedding.  Her not-wedding.  Whatever.”

                “That’s different. We were meant to be bridesmaids.  And I… I didn’t like it then either.  And I don’t understand why it matters to you.  Why do you want me to wear this stuff?”

                Half-formed answers tumble through Mini’s mind. _Because I like them – because I want you to like me -- because you’re beautiful -- because you scare me – because you’re too much, too different – because I can’t handle you  – because I can’t understand you – because you make me feel too much—because you’ve got me  totally head-fucked – because  this is too much and too crazy and I want it to be simple…_

Mini snaps out of it, turns on the smile a thousand watts.  “I just thought you’d like it.  Never mind. Come on, I want to try this one on, anyway.”  She takes the dress back from Franky, starts to hang it back up.

                “No.  Wait.”  Franky’s hand is on Mini’s arm.  “Tell you what.  I’ll try the dress on… if you’ll come to my part of the shop with me and try something on there.  A suit. Trousers and a polo shirt.  Something.”

                Mini bites her lip, not sure what this means, doubting it’s as simple as it sounds.  “Right, then,” she says eventually, and flicks the on switch on the smile once more.  “Let’s get you in your dress!”

 

***

                The dress Mini’s picked out on Franky (forest-green pencil dress, one ruffled shoulder) looks like every dress does on Franky -- like shit. “If you’d just take off your T-shirt, Franky, honestly,” Mini says with a roll of her eyes, pulling at the shoulder of the undershirt; Franky jerks away.  “You do know you can’t wear a one-shoulder dress with a vest, don’t you?”

                “I can wear it with whatever I want, since it’s not leaving the shop,” Franky says, her voice a bit strained.  She gives a look over Mini’s outfit (pink mini dress, strapless, embellished waist) and passes it over without comment, which doesn’t please Mini.  “And what do you think of mine?” Mini says, with a pout.

                Franky considers her answer for a moment.  “You look the same as always,” she says after a moment. “Perfect.”

                Mini lets out a peal of laughter, although something in Franky’s tone suggests that her remark was more complicated than an ordinary compliment. 

                “So I tried on your dress, right,” Franky says.  “Let’s change back and go to my part of the shop.”

                “The men’s part, you mean,” Mini says.

                Franky scowls.  “Come on.”  She yanks at the one shoulder of her dress.  “I want to get out of this thing.”

                “Just a min! I need to find shoes to match,” Mini says, and strides off into the women’s section once more.  Franky sighs and heads back into the changing room, wondering how long it will take to get Mini to follow through on her promise.

***

                It takes 45 minutes (search for shoes, handbag, earrings and bracelet) to get Mini into the men’s section, by which time Franky’s long since chosen shirt, trousers, and blazer for Mini.  And a T-shirt, for good measure.  “They’ll fit you better, because you’re taller,” Franky tells her.  “I have to alter all mine.”

                “Right.”  Franky notices the over-brilliance of Mini’s smile, the uncertain tilt to her head, and thinks, _She’s really nervous._

                When Mini’s gone into the dressing room, Franky can hear some fumbling around, and then a long silence.

                “Mini?” Franky calls. “Everything all right?”

                “Of course.”  But the door doesn’t open.

                “Well, let’s have a look, then.”

                There’s a pause, and then the door swings open.

                Franky doesn’t know what to think of the creature before her.

                Mini’s stance is shy, her hands playing with the pockets of the blazer, her feet shuffling a bit.  But it’s her expression that confuses Franky.  Franky expected her to look as awkward, as uncomfortable in Franky’s clothes as Franky is in Mini’s.  That was the point.  Instead, Mini’s expression is a bit awkward, yes, but more… naked.  As though a thin film has been stripped away. She looks vulnerable. Franky’s only seen that expression rarely on Mini’s face.  And it’s the expression Franky likes best.  It’s honest.

                Mini also looks, incidentally, fucking hot.  Franky tries to shove that thought away quickly.

                “All right?” Franky says quietly.

                Mini nods, flashes a smile again.  “So this is what it’s like to dress like Franky!” She pulls at the neck of the shirt a bit, plucks at the trousers, feeling the fabrics. “This is how you feel every day, then.”

                “I don’t think so,” Franky says, studying Mini’s face closely.

                The smile flits across Mini’s face, vanishes.  “It’s… odd, isn’t it?”

                “Why?” Franky asks.

                “Well…” Mini seems to be having some trouble finding the words.  “I mean, I know I look a total prat –“

                “No. You don’t,” Franky says, very definitely.

                “Well, I look –“ Mini glances in the mirror. “I don’t know how I look,” she says after a moment.  “Strange.”

                “It must be more comfortable than what you normally wear, yeah?  All those push-up bras and suspenders, tight dresses...”

                “I… yeah, a bit.”  _A bit?_ Franky thinks and doesn’t say.  “I mean, it’s…” Mini’s voice trails off.

                “What?” Franky asks, after a pause.

                “It’s sort of…”  Mini seems to be having difficulty with the words.  “You must feel… sort of… free.”

                Franky thinks about that. Does she feel free in her clothes? Mostly she just feels like herself. But the expression on Mini’s face… yes, she can see the freedom there.  Freedom mixed with fear.

                “Free,” Franky repeats.

                “Yeah.  It’s…” Mini looks around. “It’s like you don’t have to be… everything you’re supposed – I mean, everything they want – I mean…”

                Franky’s never thought of it this way before.  She’s always been focused on how hard the world tries to force her into its mould – all the sneers, swears, punches she’s taken.  She’s never thought about what it must be like to live inside the mould, feeling it tight around you, afraid to shift or stretch lest you break it.

                “You look,” Franky says after a moment, “like a punky butterfly.”

                Mini starts, then blushes and looks down.

                “And I don’t know, about… free,” Franky says.  “I never thought about it.”  She glances around the shop.  “It isn’t about just the clothes.  Maybe that’s a start.  But…” She thinks about it, weighs her options.  “There’s a place I feel free,” she says at last.  “Do you want to come with me?”

                Mini’s face breaks into a real, honest, beyond-beautiful smile.

 

***

                “Are we going back to yours, then?” Mini asks as they head toward Franky’s home.  Trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice, trying to keep her heart from jumping into her throat, trying to breathe normally.  She’s back in her skirt and top and wishing she weren’t.  As Franky said, they are too tight.

                “Sort of,” Franky says without explaining.  She leads Mini past her house, past the end of the road.  There’s a steep embankment there, all sand and little jagged chips of rock.  “Here,” Franky says, hopping up, and then reaching her hand down to help Mini up. When their hands touch, Mini shivers.  Franky’s grip tightens.  Her thumb strokes the side of Mini’s hand, briefly.  When they get to the top of the embankment they’re both out of breath, both barely meeting glances and looking away fast.  They climb over the barricade and then Franky begins to lead Mini across the sparse landscape before them, all dirt and stones underfoot, dotted with long bunches of sere brown grass here and there.  Glancing to her left, Mini sees a sort of raised platform with what looks like a gold metal sheet laid across its slanted top.  The metal’s dented and pock-marked.  “What’s that?” she asks.

                Franky glances over and bites her lip.  “It’s… it’s nothing,” she says.  Her voice is odd enough to make Mini glance over at her.  But then Franky looks ahead and a smile breaks across her face.  “Look.  Almost there,” she says, gesturing ahead towards a little copse of trees.  “Come on,” she says, and, grabbing Mini’s hand, begins to run forward lightly.

                Once they get there Mini can’t quite understand why Franky’s brought her here.  “It’s… nice,” she says, looking out over a cliff, beyond which there’s some thin woodland and then more houses, squat and stolid.  Some smoke wafts into the air from someone’s barbecue, curling idly against the sky.  “Really nice,” Mini says again.

                “No.  Like this,” Franky says, and lies down flat on her back on the ground.

                “Oh…” Mini says doubtfully, eyeing her clothes.

                “Come on,” Franky says.  “You said you wanted to see it.”

                Mini  rolls her eyes but cautiously lowers herself to the ground, wincing as she feels the dust seeping into her thin top.  Then she looks up.

                The leaves of the trees above them are a bright spring green, ranging thickly against the bleached-blue sky above them.  Slim branches interlace throughout, dark against the brightness of the leaves,  moving ever so slightly in the breeze, making the leaves shiver.  In that moment the sun comes out from behind a cloud and a burst of white light breaks over them, sifting through the leaves and branches, transforming the leaves to fluorescent green, glorifying the pattern of leaf and branch and light and shadow.  Mini’s never seen anything so beautiful.

                “Oh my God,” she says softly.

                Franky’s hand closes softly over hers. Mini draws a quick breath, her head growing light.

                For a moment they just lie there, letting this beauty wash over them.  When Franky speaks, her voice is quiet.  “This is where I come when things are shit.  Even on rainy days.  It’s different then, but it’s still…” She pauses, looking for a word, can’t find it. “Anyway. But on days like this…” She lets out a long breath, then sits up a bit, begins fumbling with her pockets.  “Goes well with a spliff,” she says, rolling one.  Lights it, proffers it to Mini.  “Here.”

                “Oh.”  Mini pauses, then smiles, reaching out for it.  “Right.”

                “Wait.”  Franky holds the joint away from her. “You’re doing that smile. Don’t. Please.”

                “What?  What smile?” Mini asks, feeling it freeze on her face, false and self-conscious.

                “The smile that says you’re playing along, trying to be something.   It’s fake, all right.  It isn’t you. You don’t really like drugs, do you?”

                “I was just being polite,” Mini says defensively. “What am I meant to do, then?”

                “Just say you don’t want it,” Franky says.  She grinds the joint out in the dirt beside her. “That’s all you need to say.”

                “Oh, that’s all.”  Mini laughs, and the bitterness in her tone surprises both of them.

                “Lie down,” Franky says, placing a hand on Mini’s arm, guiding her back.  “Just… try to let go. Just be.”

                “You talked about that in English, that time,” Mini says, remembering.  “You said being you gave you a pretty shit time, and you’d tried being someone else, but that was even worse.  You said you wanted to just be.”

                “You remember all that,” Franky says, surprised. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

                “I was always paying attention to you.”  The words are hardly a whisper.

                Franky turns her head towards Mini.  A swath of hair has fallen across Franky’s forehead.  Barely daring to breathe, Mini reaches out.  Brushes it aside.

                “Mini,” Franky whispers.

                “You said I should just say what I want.  Or don’t want.  It’s… not so easy,” Mini says at last.  She’s suddenly, hyper-sensitively aware of the rise and fall of her chest, of the feel of sand grains against her back, strands of her hair against her neck.  The softness of Franky’s hair. A subtle scent of aftershave.  The green light filtering onto them, the little coins of light falling through the leaves and onto Franky’s face.

                “Yeah.  I know,” Franky says.

                “But I…” The silence goes on for aeons.  Franky feels hypnotized, trapped in Mini’s eyes.  Mini’s breathing shallowly, her face flushing bright.

                “I want… this,” Mini says then, and kisses Franky.

                The kiss is soft and gentle. Sweet.  Franky’s hair falls across Mini’s face.  Mini’s hand slips to Franky’s waist, holding her there. They kiss for a long time, exploring, learning.  A kiss that knows there’s all the time in the world.

                “Mini,” Franky murmurs at last.

                “Franky.”

                “This…”  Franky picks up a curl of Mini’s hair between two fingers, placing it gently across her shoulder.  “This is what I meant, about being free.”

                “I know.”

                They go back to kissing, finding each other out.  Above their head, the sun begins to slant, its rays growing longer. Spots of sun play across their faces as they lie there, wrapped in green light, wrapped in each other.

 


End file.
